Undetected (36 page)

Bishop gave her two and a half hours, then returned to Gina's office, saw she was still writing in a composition book. A bag of M&Ms lay open on the desk. He took a handful and settled into the extra chair. When he'd been setting up the space for her, he'd made sure there was an extra chair, bought her a couple of colorful paperweights, added a dozen fiction paperbacks to the shelves for when she needed to fill time while data crunched, and removed the clock so she wouldn't keep thinking about how she was working late.

He couldn't fix the fact she worked just off the TCC in a basement without windows, but he'd done what he could to brighten her office with photos and posters, fresh flowers on the desk, music of her choice. He'd tucked a small refrigerator into the corner and kept it filled with apples, oranges, cold drinks, and water bottles. Three large flat-screen monitors dominated the desk space.

The screen showed the emerging photo, and every smudge was now a tightly defined form. Getting the final level of
resolution to tell a British sub from a Russian one would be another hour, he thought.

She finally stopped writing and looked over at him. He asked, “So what's the verdict on a solar flare?”

She swiveled her chair toward his, stretched her arms to relieve the tension in her shoulders. “A loop shooting toward earth is much more important than the amount of energy being released. A small pop at us is better than a wallop that glances by.”

He nodded. “Sounds like common sense to me.”

“Still nice to know now it's true. I'm going to lower the threshold for assuming a solar flare has useful data. We might actually be able to get a smudged version of a photo every seven days or so—not enough reflections to be able to identify one sub from another, but enough to say one is there.”

“That would still be very valuable and useable data.”

She nodded and found her shoes under the desk. “Are you ready for dinner? I'll need to come back.”

“I'll bring you back,” Mark said. “I'm thinking Chinese. I'd like some won tons. How about you?”

“Works for me.”

He was still trying to decide what would be best for Valentine's Day. She hadn't dropped any hints, and he wondered if she was even aware it was two days away. He was leaning toward a few dozen roses and a concert he had heard was good, but he might be misjudging that part. He wished Daniel was onshore so he could get a recommendation on the music. Valentine's Day was up there on the same level as her birthday—days a guy needed to handle with care, and some elegance. He glanced at the ring on her right hand. He
wasn't going to propose again on Valentine's Day, it was too soon, but he'd like that ring on her other hand.

Gina split open her fortune cookie as they walked out of the restaurant. Evenings were still cool enough to need a warm jacket when they walked at night, and she pushed the plastic wrapper into one of the jacket's pockets. “Daniel gets back with the
Nebraska
next month.”

“I'm aware,” Mark replied, interested that she had brought it up.

“Tell me you're going to be okay if we invite him over for steaks on the grill.”

“He'll decline.”

“We should still ask.”

Mark nodded. “I've got nothing but goodwill toward Daniel. We'll invite him to dinner, and when he thinks up an excuse, just mention you're going to invite him again. A long patrol, coming back to find you're dating me—it's going to sting even as he adjusts to the reality. Give him a month or two, Gina. He'll handle the news as graciously as he did your decision. Just for the record, I'm fine with him being around, whether I'm there or you're on your own. I trust the man. I trust you.”

“That helps, Mark. He's a friend.” She was quiet for a minute. “I want to show him the photo.”

“I already told Hardman we should bring Daniel in on what's going on with the photo. If he's willing to take on the role, I'd like him to be your buffer when Jeff and I are at sea.”

“That would be very helpful. Do you want me to mention it?”

“I'll talk to him,” Mark said. “I'd suggest leaving it be for a while, let Daniel choose the time and place to re-engage. He will when he's ready.”

“I'm hoping that's the case. It was hard, this last year, trying to be fair to both of you.”

“I know.” He felt her look his way.

“I did make the right choice—just in case you're wondering—to say no to him,” she said. “But it still hurts like crazy that I had to disappoint him.”

He reached over and lifted her hand, kissed the back of it. “Daniel will be fine. Just give him some time before you expect too much, Gina.”

Gina sat in Mark's living room, idly thumbing through a magazine while the kittens tumbled over her feet. Dating Mark was so different from what she had expected. Given how certain he was that things were going to work out, how sure he was that she would eventually return his love, she had assumed he would continue to press his case. He hadn't. His proposal was never far from her mind, but he didn't mention it. They went out to dinners and to movies, took long walks, did the more ordinary things together—grocery shopping and errands and projects around his house. She spent her off-hours with him. He'd had her building bookshelves with him the prior weekend, the puppy and kittens scampering across the boards he'd cut to fit the space. He was showing her his life, inviting her into it, and she appreciated that more than she could put into words.

Most mornings he would pick her up at Jeff's and drive her to work at Bangor, meet up with her for lunch or an early
dinner. She had come to count on his hugs, the way he would smile when he first saw her. He said “I love you” often, and the nonverbal ways he showed her that truth meant as much as the words themselves. He reached for her hand whenever he could. And after an evening together, he would take her to Jeff's, kiss her good-night on the front steps, not follow her inside. Mark was playing fair.

For Valentine's Day he had brought her two dozen roses of all colors and arranged a limo so they could travel north into Canada and see the sights around Vancouver. They had talked for hours during the drive up and back, about nothing in particular, but it had been the best date she could remember.

Trying to return the favor, she'd taken the afternoon off and fixed Mark dinner at his house—pork chops with dressing and an apple pie—and since he'd demolished two chops, she concluded the meal had been a hit. Mark had pushed her out of the kitchen; he would do the cleanup since she'd fixed the excellent dinner.

She set aside the magazine and picked up the oversized sack she'd brought in. She knew Mark's house well enough now that when she needed a pair of scissors to remove the tag from a new dog pillow for Pongo, she pulled open the first drawer of the side table in the living room.

She pulled out the pillow and placed it in the nook by the front door. Pongo had pulled one of Mark's socks from the hamper upstairs and triumphantly brought it down to play with. Gina rescued the sock and took it into the laundry room. The dog followed, and she picked up Pongo and hugged him.

She would have tossed in a load of laundry for Mark, but it felt like that would cross too far over the line of being a wife.
She put Pongo down and did open the dryer, tugging out and folding the towels they'd used after giving the puppy a bath.

She didn't feel comfortable keeping the animals at Jeff's place without asking her brother first. She'd offered to get an apartment where she could have the animals, only to have Mark point out that regardless of whether she said yes or no to his proposal, he was going to be gone for 90 days beginning in May, and he'd rather have the pets around the house and someone coming by to feed them than have the house sitting empty during his deployment. While she was at Bangor, he would keep her pets.

If they did one day marry, the man would be easy to take care of, she thought, for he was neat in ways she hadn't expected. His home was lived in but orderly, and it always felt calm being here. The pressures of his job, of hers, didn't get to invade this space. She liked being here.

She could hear Mark in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher. He'd take her home soon, back to Jeff's, kiss her good-night at the door, and whisper “I love you.” She knew him. And what he had hoped for, prayed for, was happening. She could feel herself falling in love with him. She didn't dare examine the emotion too much, frightened it would disintegrate if she analyzed it further. But she was aware it was there. And it felt really good, if rather tentative. She had felt it growing over the last few weeks.

She joined Mark in the kitchen as he picked up the metal pan at the end of the counter. He'd made Rice Krispie bars earlier in the week. “Last one. Want to split it with me?”

“Sure.”

She opened a drawer and pulled out a knife. He shook his head, held it out for her to take two bites, and then ate
the rest. “Love these things,” he said as he licked the sticky marshmallow off his fingers. “Want to go by Gary's tonight for a game of pool with him and his wife before I take you back to Jeff's?”

“I'd like that.”

He looked over at her a second time, catching her tone. “What?”

“I really enjoy dating you, Mark.”

He leaned over and kissed her. “Just figuring that out?” he teased.

She laughed. “Want me to make a batch of peanut-butter cookies tomorrow? We need more desserts.”

“Sounds good to me.” He glanced around. “The kitchen is good enough. Let's go play some pool.” He reached for his keys on the counter, and they walked out to the car. “You didn't say much about your day over dinner,” he noted as he opened the car door for her.

She shrugged. “Not much to say. I worked on speeding up the shape-detection algorithm this morning, then came over and puttered around to fix dinner.”

He settled in the driver's seat and backed out of the drive. “Having problems with the work?”

“I'll figure it out eventually.” She slipped her hand in his so she could divert the conversation.

Jeff's place seemed very quiet. Gina missed her brother. She wished he was around to talk with on a night like this. She curled up on his couch and tucked a throw around her bare feet, nursing a mug of hot chocolate. She thought about picking up a book. She wasn't tired, even though it was late.
She was still remembering the feelings that came with Mark's hug good-night.

Love had crept in while she wasn't looking. She did love him. The realization had come into her life so gently she couldn't pinpoint when she first knew.
“He'
s the one, isn't he, Jesus?”
she whispered. There was such a deep peace with the recognition of that fact that it overwhelmed everything else she felt. She was in love with Mark Bishop.

She turned the ring on her right hand. The man was going to be so ecstatic when she told him yes. She felt treasured, cared for, just being with him. Add the words
I love
you
to what she could say to him, and the coming months were going to be a joy for both of them. She smiled to herself, thinking about the next few days, how they might unfold. A personal dream from back when she was a teenager was now becoming a reality.